Author's Note: This is a short one, which is misleading because it took me like three days to write it. :-P Thank you everyone for your words of support and well-wishing. It means a lot to me.
She was alone when it happened.
The day had been a long and arduous one, her current inability to sleep easily through even a single night apparent in the sluggishness of her movements. She had soldiered through though, much the same as she always did, and even allowed the boys to persuade her into calling it an early evening.
All three of them. She didn't know whether to be grateful to them, or chagrined at the fact that all three of them had ganged up on her. So far, she was going with grateful.
She'd come home, ran a hot bath and poured a glass of her favorite red wine. Her heart was still heavy with the knowledge of her father's plight, but she liked to think that she had regained much of her composure and control. Monday had been particularly rough after the tumult of the weekend, but in typical Kate Beckett fashion she'd managed to string herself together just enough to keep up appearances.
Appearances. Who was she kidding? Ryan and Esposito may not have known exactly what was going on, but they knew her well enough to know that something was wrong. Castle … well, he had backed off a little, in deference to both her personal and professional sensibilities, but she wasn't fooled. The assertive, watchful, take-no-prisoners Castle was lurking just behind those baby blues, patiently biding his time until he was needed again.
She was grateful for that too.
The whole situation – the grim reality of her father's situation, and the idea that she could one undetermined day find herself in the same one – was weighing on both her thoughts and her heart. She would find herself thinking heavy, dark thoughts at strange times, seemingly triggered by nothing.
That's how she had been all night.
By the time she'd gotten out of the bath, those strings she'd wound so tightly around herself to keep the façade together were once again frayed and loosening. The darkness was once again lacing its way through her heart, tingeing her thoughts with shades of gray.
The clock told her it was just past nine, and she still had not eaten dinner.
The sharp trill of her phone startled her heart into her throat. She reached for the receiver, nearly missed, and slammed her finger into the little green button.
"Hello?"
"Hey, bug," Her father answered
"Hi, Dad."
"You just get home from work?"
"A little bit ago," She answered, curling herself into her couch cushions
"How was it?"
"Long," She answered with a tired sigh
"Listen, bug, I wanted to do this in person, but I got held up at work today, and this isn't the kind of thing that I want to draw out."
Her heart came screeching to a halt and then plunged wildly out of her chest and through the floor of her apartment; by the time it came back to her, a surge of furious adrenaline had ignited in her veins and had her trembling furiously.
This was not good.
No. No, no, no, no.
"The Doc called me today, Katie. Our test results came in. He was going to call you too, but I told him I wanted to be the one to tell you."
"Dad," She said, and her voice cracked and it sounded startlingly like a plea
"I have the cancer gene, Katie. And so do you."
And so do you.
I have the cancer gene …
And so do you.
Surely that pressure must be her heart forcibly ripping its way through muscle and tissue and rib cage in its animalistic desire to free itself from her body. Her weak, treacherous, traitorous body.
"Katie?"
"Dad, I … can you … I'll call you back, okay?"
She couldn't wait to hear his response. She couldn't even wait to drop the phone before she was launching herself off the couch, the discordant thrum of what was most certainly every emotion she'd ever felt vibrating through her body. She took a deep, ragged breath that sounded despairingly close to a sob.
No. She could not do that. She could not give in to it; she absolutely could not release the wraiths that were screaming in her soul. They would consume her, terrorize her, and drag her down into the fathomless pit of their darkness. She knew that place: it held her mother, Montgomery, Royce … it held too much, and not enough. Never enough.
The scope and depth of her emotional and mental upheaval was simply too much for her to bear, however, and only belatedly did Kate realize what was happening.
She was auto-destructing.
Too much fear and confusion, too much all encompassing horror … all melding itself into a seamless ribbon of rage.
Underneath the heat of her anger, a tiny beacon of light in the typhoon, her ravaged soul was singing a lament: a low, mournful note that she recognized in a very primal way. Castle. Her soul was singing for him, calling out to its complement and straining to hear the answering melody.
She paced as she held the phone to her ear and listened to the sound of the other line ringing.
She didn't have to wait long.
"Kate?"
The sound of his voice, a comfort all on its own, swept over her.
"Castle," Was all she managed, her voice caught between a sob and a wail
"Where are you?" He demanded
"Home," She managed
"Stay there, I'm on my way."
She wasn't sure which of them hung up, only that the line had been dead for several seconds by the time she realized it.
Calm down, Kate, she told herself. It's just a gene. It doesn't mean that you will get cancer – nothing in life is guaranteed. It just means that you are more at risk. It just means … but there her rationality failed her. There her fear and shock refused to be dampened or silenced; all her skill in denial and control was useless against the beast that was even then devouring her.
What did this mean for her father?
What did this mean for her?
A cracked, primal sob clawed its way up her throat and tore through the silence of her apartment. Don't let go, Kate, a voice whispered from somewhere in her mind, close it off. If you start, you'll never stop.
Right: the wall. Put it behind the wall, that massive stone and mortar expanse that had been constructed sometime after her mother's death. The broad expanse of solid protection that curled around her heart and kept a firm barrier between herself and … well, everything.
Behind the wall; bury it, Kate. Smother it, drown it …
Self -defense, it was all in self- defense: she was in survival mode now, the overwhelming fear and confusion driving her into a state of self-preservation.
I can't do this! I can't …
"Kate!"
Castle! Her mind seized on his name like a lifeline, and she was across the room and opening the door without being conscious of moving from her previous spot. He was just on the other side of that door, the wrong side, and she had to get him because … because of everything, and because she suddenly knew, passionately, irrevocably knew that he should never have been on any side but the one she was on.
The door opened, and her eyes found and locked on to the wide baby blue ones in front of her. He was disheveled and intense looking, but collected and calm in a way that she was not.
"Castle."
She was crumbling under the weight of her own storm, crumbling under the strain of trying to keep it together and stay standing and do it all without even the smallest form of help.
Richard Castle caught her – again – always – and folded her into his warm embrace, carrying her across her apartment to curl them both into the couch. Her hands gripped the lapels of his jacket, her head pillowing itself against his chest just over his heartbeat.
"Castle," She said again, his name like a prayer against her lips
"I'm here, Kate," He answered, his voice warm and soothing above her, "I've got you."
She shuddered once, twice, and then she was lost to everything except the feel of Castle's body against her and the devastating release of her grief. She had mistakenly believed herself to be in control again just an hour or so before, a belief that had been shattered in just a few seconds, with just a few words.
And so do you.
What was going to happen to her now? Where did she go from here? Was this how her father had felt when he was told he had cancer? Who had been there to comfort him – how had he dealt with such a blow? So many questions without answers.
What the hell was that sound?
Castle's arms tightened around her, his head coming to rest against her own as his hands rubbed slow circles against the expanse of her back. The sound was coming from her: she was sobbing.
She was sobbing, and she was safe. Completely, wonderfully safe.
She must have cried herself to sleep, because when she opened her eyes sometime later she was still curled into the warmth of Castle's chest. His heartbeat was steady and rhythmic underneath her ear, a wonderfully natural lullaby. Her fingers ached from clutching so tightly to his lapels; she uncurled them and let both hands fall away from his clothing, wincing at the ache in the small muscles of her fingers.
She raised her head slowly, hating the thick and fogged feeling that was always left behind after a bout of intense crying. She was closer than she had realized, nearly cheek to cheek with Castle before she leaned away to look at him. He was still wide awake, both strong arms holding her tight against his chest, blue eyes watching her intently.
"What time is it?" She asked, her voice thick with tears and sleep
"Late," He answered simply, his fingers brushing her cheek as he swept away a lock of her hair, "Come on."
She unfolded herself and stood, waiting for him to do the same and then letting him take her hand without so much as a word. He led her down the hall to her bedroom – she didn't put up a fight when he pulled back her sheets and comforter, just climbed into the delicious comfort of her bed. He pulled the blanket up around her, and then stepped away to turn off the lights.
"I'll be in the living room if you need me," He said quietly, moving toward the door
"Castle?"
"Hmm?" He hummed, stopping to turn and look at her
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a second, and then opened them again. She made sure she was holding his gaze, and then said, "I need you."
Three simple words that had cost her no small amount of effort to voice; three small words that had a profound effect on the man standing across from her. She could see it in the lines of his body, in the sudden stillness of his chest that told her he was holding his breath. She had surprised him.
She had surprised them both.
She held out one hand, watching as he moved slowly across the floor to take it. She could see the doubt in his face, the way his eyes searched her for any signs of recrimination or wariness. She kept his gaze and left her hand extended, a secret part of her afraid that he would turn away. He continued to approach, however, and just a few seconds later he was sliding one strong hand into her smaller one.
Kate surprised them both again – well, mostly him, because she had already decided on her course of action. She tugged insistently on his hand, pulling a somewhat stunned Richard Castle down onto the bed beside her.
"Stay with me," She whispered
His eyes, brilliant even in the darkness of her bedroom, looked at her questioningly. She gave no explanations, and hoped that he would not ask for one; tonight, she did not want to think. Tonight, she was raw and wounded – she was vulnerable. She wanted nothing more than to curl into his side and lose herself in the exploration of her unconscious mind.
She wanted to sleep, and forget the terror that currently shadowed her waking moments.
And she wanted to know that Castle was with her, close enough to feel the rise of his chest with every beat and listen to the steady hum of his heartbeat.
That vein of unspoken thought that they always seemed to share seemed to flare to life then, and he apparently understood exactly what she needed. He kicked off both shoes, letting them fall ungracefully to the floor beside her bed, and then wiggled himself out of his sweater. He was wearing a dark t-shirt underneath, the exact color of which she could not make out, but it occurred to her then that she had rarely seen him in anything but a button up shirt or a nice suit. She liked the more informal look of the t-shirt: it felt more … intimate.
And then Kate surprised even herself by holding the comforter away from her body, the silent signal for him to join her under the blanket. This time, however, he did not hesitate: he sidled under the blanket and then stretched himself out wordlessly beside her. She waited until he had made himself comfortable and then, for the first time in her life, Kate willingly tucked her head up under his chin and curled herself into the warmth of Richard Castle's body.